Chess Piece
by Un-Ended Tales Unravel
Summary: An interesting package comes in the mail, plunging Sherlock back into one of the cases he never solved and the one that has haunted him since he was a child. But this case will have more twists and turns then they would have imagined. "Then again, Clover did always like games." Chapter 6: One Puzzle Piece Out of Place, Chapter 7: The Imitation, Chapter 8: The Pawn
1. The Invitation

**This is my first Sherlock fanfic so this should be interesting.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.  
**

**Hope you enjoy.**

The Invitation

Our story begins on an ordinary day, and to Sherlock this meant boring. Where was the excitement? It had been twelve hours since their last solved case and he was itching for some action, almost tempting to begin the search for his cigarettes. John had hidden them again, somewhere. His eyes scanned the apartment looking for anything out of the ordinary but he quickly shook his head, refocusing on the cup of tea in his hands.

He watched as the liquid in the teacup swirled around, boring. Finally he decided to put it down on the side table next to his armchair. He had stared at the tea for so long that it had become cold and he no longer desired to drink it. Deducing a cup of tea wasn't the kind of excitement he was looking for on this boring day.

"I'm going out to get some milk." John said, coming into the sitting room. "Need anything?"

To John it was a very nice day; a good break from all the running about they had done on the last case. The sky outside was nearly cloudless and the warm breeze came in through one of the windows, filling the flat with the nice smells of summer.

Sherlock wasn't fazed by the niceness of the sky or the smells that to him were just another thing to deduce, but as boring as the tea. He barely even noticed that John had asked him a question.

John simply shrugged, nothing out of the ordinary about that, and headed out the door. He sucked in a lungful of air and exhaled, letting himself relax, a rare occurrence when sharing a flat with Sherlock Holmes. It was a short walk down to the shops. The bell on the door jingled as he entered the store where they usually bought their milk. By now John could make his way to where the milk was kept blindfolded, but for some reason he decided to take a different root then he usually did.

He took the long way round and found himself passing by the newspaper stand. The front page of the paper on top caught his eye. The headline read "15 Year Old Case Reopened". Next to the article there was a black and white photo of a young girl, around fifteen. She was dressed in her school uniform and her wavy hair fell to her shoulders. She wore glasses and her grin gave off the feeling that she was a very kind person. Or had been a kind person.

John picked up the paper and read a random line from the article. "There is sufficient evidence that she may still be alive but the chances of finding her are still slim." He read quietly to himself.

"Tragic isn't it?" A voice said from behind him.

Startled he turned around to come face to face with an elderly man. "You know her story?" John asked, getting a hold of himself.

"Do I know it?" He said it as if it were obvious. "Unfortunately I know it far too well. She was a nice girl, got in a few fights but she had a kind heart. Very protective of her friends."

"You knew her." John concluded.

"Yes." The old man got a far off look in his eye. "I knew her. I'm surprised they're reopening the case now, after so long. They must have found something."

"Yes, they said there's evidence that she might still be alive." John gestured to the paper in his hands.

"Fools." He scoffed. "She's been missing for fifteen years. I keep thinking back to it but I can't find anything out of the ordinary about the last time I saw her. The next day she was just gone, vanished without a trace. We searched for weeks, even months, nothing."

"You don't believe there's a chance she could still be alive?" John was surprised. Anyone would jump at the chance that someone they cared about was still alive.

"They're chasing a fairy tale. There is no such thing as happy endings. At least, not this time." He lowered his eyes. "They may find her, but I doubt she'll still be alive."

"Maybe they know that the chances are slim." John paused. "Maybe they just want to burry their daughter."

"Maybe." The old man nodded. It looked like he was about to say something else when someone called from the front of the store.

"Grandfather!"

"Oops." He realized. "Must have wandered off without telling them again."

"It was nice talking to you." John said goodbye to the old man as he watched him weave his way back to the shop door. John peered around the corner to see him leaving with a young woman who was holding the hand of a little girl. The old man must have wondered what would've happened if it had been his granddaughter, the young woman with him, who had gone missing.

John hurried back to 221B after that with milk in hand and the newspaper under his arm. The mail had come while he was out so he stuffed the letters and small parcel under his arm as he entered his flat. He went upstairs to find Sherlock in the exact same place, his cold tea still on the table next to him.

John went straight past and into the kitchen. He hesitated before opening the fridge, all manner of possibilities came to his mind as to what Sherlock could be keeping in there this time. Taking a deep breath, he quickly opened the door to the fridge and stuffed the milk inside, shutting it again.

He came back into the sitting room and went through the mail in his hands, forgetting the newspaper for the moment. Most of them were just bills or advertisements for restaurants. Then he came to the small parcel. It was a cube sort of box shape wrapped in brown paper. It was addressed to a Mr. Sherlock Holmes.

"Sherlock he said." Not looking up from the parcel. "You have mail."

That caught his friend's attention. Sherlock looked up and eyed the small brown parcel in John's hands. In one movement he stood from the chair and had taken the box from John. Carefully, he turned it over in his hands, examining every side. To John it looked all together quite normal, but he waited patiently for Sherlock's analyses.

Sherlock was quiet for an uncomfortable amount of time. Usually it wouldn't take him very long to deduce what was inside but something about this one stumped him. It even puzzled him.

"Why don't you just open it?" John suggested. The suspense was killing him.

"Fine." Sherlock conceded and started to carefully unwrap the brown paper from around the box. The brown paper fell away to reveal a smooth black leather box. He turned it over in his hands looking for more clues.

"Oh for goodness sake just open the lid." John was impatient. So Sherlock opened the lid and his breath caught in his throat. "What is it?"

Reaching in, Sherlock carefully retrieved a small red chess piece from the box. "A pawn."

"I thought chess pieces were usually black or white." John pointed out.

"Yes, but you see John, the original colours for chess pieces were white and red." Sherlock explained. He turned the pawn over to look at the bottom side of it and he stopped, his hand shaking.

"What?"

Sherlock turned the pawn so that John could see. The bottom of the chess piece was covered in green velvet but there was a hole punched through it and a small orange ball was stuck in the hole.

"Is that a Beebe gun pellet?" John asked.

"One of her cousins put it in there. Never knew why." Sherlock said absent-mindedly.

"Whose cousin?"

"An old friend of mine." He said without looking at John.

"Friend? I thought you didn't have friends." John didn't mean to sound cruel and Sherlock didn't take it that way.

"She was my only friend back then." He clarified. "May I see that newspaper?"

"Oh." John had forgotten about the paper tucked under his arm. "You might be interested with the front page."

"I know." Sherlock said, taking the paper from John.

Sherlock was quiet for a moment as he read through the article. His eyes lingered on the photo of the girl, remembering it from his old yearbook.

"She never liked that photo." Sherlock laughed to himself. "She always said it looked like she was standing in front of a bus. I disagreed and she punched me in the arm. Mycroft agreed and she hit him too."

"She was close with you two? What was her name?"

"Clover Pawn, like the chess piece. She was the only one who could stop us fighting, if only for five minutes." Sherlock got a far off look in his eyes. "She went missing about a week after this was taken."

"You looked for her I presume." John came over to stand next to his friend and look at the picture.

"Yes." Sherlock answered simply.

"Find anything?" John asked.

"Nothing." Sherlock spat the word and John took a step away from him. "Not a single clue. She was just…gone."

"Well it seems they've found something now."

"Yes, they did." Sherlock held up the box with the chess piece inside. "They found this to be specific."

"Oh." John said, looking closer at the small chess piece, trying to see if he could deduce anything from it himself. "Why is it a clue?"

"Because John, this was her favorite chess piece. She carried it with her everywhere." Sherlock explained. "So why are they just finding it now? It's been fifteen years."

"And why are they sending it to you?" John added.

"Its an invitation." Sherlock deduced. "They want me to take a look at the case. After all, I did know her."

"Will you accept?"

"Well there's nothing else to do." Sherlock didn't let on how personal this case was. "It will subside the boredom. Come along John get your coat. We have a case to solve."

"Wait, we're going now?" John grabbed his coat and followed the consulting detective downstairs and out the front door. "We don't even know where to go?"

"We don't need to." Sherlock gestured to a car waiting out front. A young woman stood next to it wearing a long forest green woman's trench coat and an old chauffeurs hat.

"Is the car for us?" John was surprised.

"They knew I'd say yes."

The young woman next to the car looked up as they came out the front door and stood up straight to meet them. "Mr. Holmes I presume."

"Yes, and you are?" After the Study in Pink case he was a little more suspicious about the people driving the cars.

"You may call me Ms. Percy." She didn't smile. "Who's this?" She asked pointing to John.

"Dr. John Watson will be accompanying me on this case."

"Very well." She said and went to open the car door for Sherlock and John. They got in and she went over to the driver's side and got in herself, looking in the rearview mirror. "Your seatbelt Mr. Holmes."

"I don't usually wear my seatbelt." Sherlock stated.

"Now Mr. Holmes." Her voice was strong and authoritative.

Sherlock looked like a child as he unwillingly put on his seatbelt. "May I ask who you are taking us to see?"

"You'll find out soon enough." She said, pulling out and driving down the road.

"Well that's comforting." John stared at the window, wondering what he had gotten himself into.

**Thank you for reading and please REVIEW!**

**I'd like to know what you guys think. Criticism is accepted but don't be rude.**

**Hope you keep following.**

**See you next time. **


	2. Pearls

**Sorry that took me a while. For some reason my account wouldn't let me upload this one. Sorry again.**

**This one is a little shorter then usual but I hope you still enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Read and enjoy.**

Pearls

They had been riding in the car for hours. Eventually the car pulled up outside a very large house in the countryside. Sherlock was silent as the chauffeur came to open the door for them to get out. She did not accompany them to the door but there was another man in a suit who came down to meet them. He stood before them with his back straight.

"If you would follow me." He gestured towards the doors.

"Thank you Ms. Percy." John turned to thank the chauffeur then followed Sherlock and the man into the house.

John looked around in awe when they got inside. It was like a castle with its high ceilings and the large entranceway that could have been a ballroom. There was a large staircase coming down right in front of them but they didn't stop there. They turned off to the right and down a few more hallways. The walls were covered in old paintings, maybe of family members. The man in the suit stopped in front of one of the big double doors with carvings all around the outside.

First he knocked and they heard a female voice call from inside. Then he swung open the double doors with ease and held them there for John and Sherlock, who walked inside. The room looked like a study with a fireplace burning warmly. There was a sofa in front of it and two comfy armchairs on either side. Further into the room behind the sofa was a desk covered in papers and a man sitting behind it looking quite consumed with his work.

But it was not the man who looked up from the desk to greet them. It was the woman sitting on the sofa in her elegant dress, knees together. She was the picture of a Lady. John wouldn't be surprised if she were. They had been to Buckingham Palace but there was something about this place that was comfy like a home and also grand like a castle. They had never seen much of Buckingham Palace anyway. This place was much smaller but just as nice.

The woman turned her head to greet them with a smile that almost looked forced, almost. She stood then and beckoned for them to sit down. They took the two armchairs, positioned so they could still see her.

"Thank you for coming. You may call me Mrs. Pawn." She said, looking between them and then resting her eyes on Sherlock. "You are Sherlock Holmes, yes?"

"I am." His voice was monotone and gave nothing away.

"You know why I've called you here." It was more of a statement then a question.

"Its about the girl in the paper." He called her the girl and not by her real name. John found this confusing but said nothing.

"Yes, our little girl." The woman started playing with a pearl necklace she had around her neck.

"It's been fifteen years. Why call me now?" Sherlock asked. "And why me?"

"We sent you the clue that we found. They said you were the best detective…"

"Consulting Detective." Sherlock cut her off.

"Oh, yes." She looked flustered. "Well they said you were the best."

"Mrs. Pawn, where did you find the chess piece?" He asked her next. He listed off questions as if he had written them down in his mind. Knowing him that didn't seem impossible.

"On the doorstep of our apartment in the city. We go there sometimes to get away and relax." She explained. "It was just there the other morning."

"Why would you say it's a clue? After all it's just a chess piece."

"But it was her chess piece." She elaborated. "You'd never see her without it. So she must have had it on her when she was taken."

"And you're sure she was taken and she didn't run away?"

"Yes. She just wasn't that kind of girl. She was happy. Why would she run away?" Mrs. Pawn looked rather insulted by Sherlock's question.

"But there was never any ransom note."

"No. We waited for one but it never came." She said.

"So one sign of a clue and you just decide to reopen the case?"

"Of course." She didn't understand his question.

"What if she's dead?" He was blunt.

"She isn't dead." Her voice was razed as she denied it.

"Darling." The man finally looked up from his papers. There were bags under his eyes from long nights and his eyes had a certain sadness to them. The one word made it feel like he was trying to pull his wife back to earth before she flew off the handle. Then he looked to Sherlock.

"We have considered the possibility that our daughter is never coming home. At least the same as she left." His eyes lowered. "We just want her back is all."

"I understand." John looked at Sherlock surprised. He understood? Well the girl had been his friend so why shouldn't he feel the same way?

"Will you take the case?" Mrs. Pawn asked anxiously.

"Should be interesting." Sherlock looked to John then back to her. "I guess I can give it my time. Was it hers?"

"Was what hers?" She asked, fiddling with her necklace.

"The necklace. The way you're stroking it. It must be sentimental." Sherlock explained.

"Yes." She paused for a moment. "It was her favorite. I just can't seem to take it off. Makes her feel that much closer."

"I see." He nodded, getting to his feet. "Thank you Mrs. Pawn."

"Is that all?" She stood too and so did John.

"Yes, but I would like to take a look at your apartment. The one where you found the pawn."

"Of course." She took a piece of paper from the side table and scribbled a few lines onto it before handing it to Sherlock.

"Thank you." He turned to leave but paused and looked back to Mrs. Pawn. "Why did she always carry around the chess piece?"

"It was an odd habit. Can't say I know the reason." She shrugged her shoulders.

"Well, we will be in touch if we find anything of use. Good day Mrs. Pawn." He bowed his head and went for the door where the man in the suit still stood, holding it open for them. John followed his friend, more confused now then when they had entered the room.

Sherlock looked back once and his eyes studied the room for a second before leaving through the doors. The man in the suit closed the doors silently behind them and guided them back to the front entrance. The chauffeur, Ms. Percy, was there still waiting for them. She didn't look like she had moved at all since they entered the house. Then again, they hadn't been there long.

But Sherlock didn't go to the car right away. He walked along the side of the house and turned on the corner until he came to the back of the house. There was a field behind it that stretched far. Further then either of them could see. There was a river, or maybe it was a stream, cutting through it part way and a hill next to it. Sherlock stared out onto this landscape for some time, taking it all in.

"Clover and I used to go down by that stream there often." He finally said, pointing the stream. "It was always nice during the fall when there was a cool breeze and the trees were just starting to change colour. She said she liked transition seasons. That's when everything was always perfect because it was the end of things but also the beginning. It was the season of never lasting, she said."

John didn't say anything. Of course Sherlock would be the one to remember all that. For some reason of his own he found it was one of those important things he needed to store in his head.

"Those were happy moments." He continued. "But like she said. They were just one of those things that didn't last."

"How long did you know her for?" John asked.

"Not long enough." He didn't answer the question but John could gather that they had known each other for quite some time and her disappearance had hit him hard. That was why he took this case. So why had he been acting so strangely while they were talking to Clover's parents, as if he didn't really care and this was just another case he was taking because he was bored? John didn't believe that. Sherlock took this case because not knowing what happened was killing him. He never liked the unsolved ones and this one most of all. But now he had a chance to solve it, so he took it.

"Its not the same." Sherlock said. "Its different from the last time I was here."

"What do you mean?" John asked.

Sherlock took a deep breath of the cool fall air, turned, and headed back to the front of the house. "Come along John. We have a case to solve." He waved away John's question. John hated it when Sherlock was cryptic.

Ms. Percy saw them coming and opened the door to the back seat and they got in. She got in the drivers seat. She looked in the rearview mirror, just one look.

"Fine." Sherlock relented and buckled his seat belt.

"Where to?" She asked and Sherlock handed her the slip of paper Mrs. Pawn had given him with the address of the apartment on it. Without another word she started the car and pulled out, down the road back to London.

"There's something troubling you." John turned to his friend and studied his face.

"Pearls." He said. "Clover loved pearls."

"What about it?" John didn't see his point.

Sherlock turned his head to look at John and mimed fiddling with something around his neck.

"That wasn't Clover's necklace."

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW! It would really help.**

**Hope you keep following because the mystery has more twists and turns coming up.**

**See you next time. Hopefully it will be up faster.**


	3. Her Name

**Well this chapter definitely got finished faster then the last one and its a bit longer too. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy reading.**

Her Name

John had tried to ask Sherlock more about what he had said about the pearl necklace but he was waved away and the rest of the trip back to the city was quiet. He was exploding with questions but that was normal when associating with Sherlock Holmes. Over time John had learnt to be patient when it came to him but in times like these he hated to be kept in the dark.

He should understand why Sherlock didn't want to go more into detail about it now. Ms. Percy worked for the Pawns after all and he didn't want them to know about his suspicions. He felt in his gut that something was wrong about this whole case and their talk with Mrs. Pawn had only deepened his suspicion. His mind raced as he tried to put all the clues together. He had a basic idea but there were still some pieces missing.

The apartment didn't look out of the ordinary at all when they pulled up in front of it and got out. From the outside it was just an ordinary flat. Ms. Percy let them in. Sherlock pocked his head in. Nothing caught his eye right off the bat. He came back out and looked to the chauffeur.

"I think we'll be alright by ourselves. You can wait here." He told her.

"Of course sir." She nodded and went back to the car.

"Thanks Percy." He called after her, watching until she disappeared and then slipped inside with John right behind him.

Nothing seemed odd inside or out of place, at least in John's eyes. He looked to his friend who was studying the underside of a coffee cup that had been sitting on the coffee table in front of a couch. The Pawns must love books because there were piles of them everywhere, old books and new ones.

Suddenly Sherlock stood up straight and walked straight for a door at the other end of the sitting room. He hesitated before turning the handle and letting the door slide open slowly. The expression on his face did not change when the door opened onto the small room, but he did not go in. John came to stand beside him and looked in.

It was a small room with minimum furniture. There was a bed pushed up in the far corner, a trunk at the foot of the bed, and a bookshelf opposite it. A window looked out onto a garden in the back but this flat was on the top floor so the garden did not belong to the people who lived here. There were a few pictures on the wall but they were covered in dust.

"Whoever's room this was they haven't been here for a long time." John concluded.

"Very good John." Sherlock finally spoke. "But I think you know who's room this was."

"Clover's?" John looked to his friend who was still staring in, not entering the room.

"Yes." Sherlock almost whispered. "It looks like they haven't touched it since she disappeared."

John walked into the room first and up to one of the pictures hanging on the wall. Carefully he took it down and used his sleeve to remove the dust. Under the layer of dust were three children smiling, two boys and a girl. He recognized the girl as Clover. This picture must have been taken around the same time as the school photo they used in the newspaper. She was smiling and she had her arms around the shoulders of the two boys.

"Sherlock." He said, looking back to his friend who was looking around the room with a far off look in his eye. Seeing that he wasn't going to come into the room, John walked over to him with the picture in his hands and held it up so he could see. Sherlock's eyes lowered slowly until they fell on the picture in John's hands. For a moment he didn't say anything, then he took the picture from John and held it in his own hands.

"I remember that day." He said. "It was on the last day of school, just before summer started. Clover said she wanted to remember that day forever so we got one of our teachers to take a picture. She was so happy." He was silent for a moment. "At the time I didn't think that there was anything wrong about the way she was acting. Clover was just being Clover, but now that I think about it she was acting as if it might be the last time she saw us and a few months later she was gone. Just like that."

"You think she knew what was going to happen?" John asked.

"Maybe." Sherlock wiped away more of the dust from the photograph. "She was clever she was. Outwitted Mycroft and I a few times. Should of known she had secrets, and had been smart enough to hide them well."

"What kind of secrets?" John looked down at the photograph, wondering what that day was like when they took the it.

"That's what we're here to find out I suppose." Sherlock looked up from the photo and looked around the room once more.

"Back in the car, what were you getting at when you said that necklace wasn't Clover's?" John went back to the sentence Sherlock had said in the car that had made his brain explode with questions.

"Clover did have a pearl necklace but it wasn't a string of pearls. It was a single pearl on a golden chain." He pointed to the photograph and there it was around her neck. "That wasn't the only thing I found was off about our meeting with the Pawns."

"What else did you notice?" John asked, thinking back.

"The office we were in and everywhere else we saw in that giant house there was not one picture of Clover." Sherlock explained.

"Maybe there was in another part of the house that we did not see." John pointed out.

"They are supposed to be parents looking for their daughter. I believe that usually in the father's study he would keep a picture of his family that would include his daughter. But there wasn't one photograph."

"What does that mean?"

"They do seem to know a lot about Clover and yet they don't remember me." Sherlock continued.

"You first thought that they called you there because you knew her but they said they only contacted you because they heard you were the best." John put the pieces together. "Parents usually remember their children's best friends."

"Usually yes. I never actually properly met her parents because they were always away but I'm sure Clover would have told them about her friends. She would have told them my name." Sherlock tapped the frame of the picture with his middle finger. "Clover told me once why she always carried that pawn around with her. She said it was because she never wanted to become one herself. She didn't want to be manipulated. The pawn was a reminder that she had a mind of her own and she could move herself around the board wherever she wanted. She told me that the day we took this photograph."

"Do you think that had anything to do with her disappearance? Was she having problems with her parents?" John wondered. "Maybe she really did run away."

"We were only kids then, not smart enough to cover our trails that well. I don't think it was her parents she was having problems with." Sherlock answered him. "There was one thing they never mentioned during our meeting, one very important thing. Did you notice what it was?"

John thought back, running over their conversation in his mind but couldn't pinpoint the missing piece. He looked back to Sherlock and shook his head.

"Her name." Sherlock said. "They never once mentioned Clover's name, like they almost didn't remember."

"What kind of parents forgets their daughter's name?" John couldn't imagine it.

"Exactly. They wouldn't." Sherlock handed John the photograph and he placed it back on the wall with the others. "I don't think those people are the Pawns, John."

"Then why are they looking for her?" John asked.

"I don't know." Sherlock looked down at his feet, then, very slowly, he stepped inside the room. For some reason it seemed like a big step.

"Do you know if Clover ever left a journal? Maybe she wrote it down." John started to look around for anything that might look like a journal.

"She was never that simple. If she wrote it down it wouldn't be obvious what she was trying to say and if she had wanted someone to know something then she would have come right out and said it. Like when she told Nancy Barkins she wore too much makeup when no one else had the guts to tell her for years. Clover was fearless."

"Well she was afraid of something." John said as he looked underneath the bed, finding nothing.

Sherlock walked over to her bookshelf, running his finger along the spines he used to see her read. His fingers stopped on one of them. It was a normal blue covered book. Not out of the ordinary at all, but something about it made Sherlock stop for a moment and look closer.

"John." He called him over. "Look at this."

"What about it?" He asked, looking at the book.

"No dust." Sherlock pulled on the book and it slid out half way before catching on something. They heard a click and the movement of bolts. The bookshelf shook and dust fell from its shelves before it swung forward like a door. John and Sherlock stepped back.

"A hidden passage." John stated the obvious as the two of them found themselves staring down a long winding staircase. "Where do you think it leads to?"

"There's only one way to find out." Sherlock strode forward and began to descend the stairs to wherever they might lead with John in toe. The door stayed open behind them. By the time they reached the bottom it was pitch black until John found the light switch.

The lights came on to reveal some sort of laboratory. There were cells along the side with a strong sheet Plexiglas like substance used instead of bars. The tables were covered with strange liquids and pills. Along with instruments that looked like they were used for some kind of surgery. In the middle there was what looked like a dentist's chair with straps on the arms and going over where the legs would be. The laboratory was empty otherwise with no signs of life.

"What is this place?" John looked around with a feeling of horror in his gut.

"Some kind of testing center." Sherlock deduced. "They were experimenting."

"Experimenting on what?" John was afraid to ask.

"Looks like they were testing on humans." Sherlock looked around. "And recently."

"Why is the entrance in Clover's room?" John didn't understand.

"Perfect hiding place. Who would ever imagine that the entrance to a top-secret laboratory was in a child's bedroom? This must be where her parents were going when she said they had gone away on business."

"You think she knew?" John looked to Sherlock.

"Not at first." He put the pieces together. "But I think she figured it out."

"Is that why she disappeared, because she found out?"

"John you've been reading too many spy books, but I must say it is a possibility." Sherlock ran his fingers over the metal surface of the tables and walked over to the chair. Part of the white cushion was stained with what looked like dried blood. A shiver ran up both their spines.

"You don't think?" John wanted his suspicions to be wrong. He wanted Sherlock to say that it couldn't be true, but the consulting detective remained silent. "Her own parents wouldn't do that to her."

"I don't know who did it and I don't know if they did." Sherlock laid his hand on one of the armrests. "But Clover was here. I'm sure of it. Whether she sat in this chair or not is still a mystery."

John opened his mouth to say more but a sound of something hitting the floor made him stop. Sherlock's head shot up, his eyes scanning the room.

"Get down!" John lunged forward and grabbed Sherlock by the arm, pulling him behind one of the lab tables. Just then bullets came out of the dark, pinging off the metal tables. John pulled a gun from under his jacket and was about to fire back when the sound of more bullets being fired came from the stairs. A dark form descended the stairs and shot not at John and Sherlock but at their attacker. The figure stopped firing when they heard a loud thump as the attacker fell to the ground. John and Sherlock came out from behind the table and looked to the figure that came into the light.

"Percy?" John was surprised to see the chauffeur but did not put away his gun. She looked up to see them and lowered her gun.

"Good to see the two of you are still alive." She said.

"What is going on?" John asked, still holding his gun tight.

"There's no time for that now. We have to get out of here before more of these guys show up." Percy gestured for them to follow her back up the stairs.

"And who are these guys?" Sherlock persisted.

"People who don't want their secrets getting out." She explained. "We have to get back to the car."

"How do we know we can trust you?" Sherlock asked suspiciously.

Percy stopped for a moment and looked back at them. "You don't." She said simply and continued up the stairs.

That was when the case turned into something more then finding a girl who has been missing for fifteen years. The mystery was going deeper then they ever imagined.

**Thanks for reading and please don't forget to REVIEW! I love hearing from you all.**

**Well everything is starting to fall together or is everyone just more confused?**

**Hope you keep following because the mystery continues.**


	4. The Game has Changed

**Well it has been a while. Hope you all are doing well. Sorry I've just been really busy and trying to finish one of my other stories on top of this.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

The Game has Changed

They burst through the front door into daylight, not caring about shutting the door behind them. They had to get away from that place before more people like that shooter in the basement showed up. Percy led them down the front stairs and cut a corner sharply, away from the car they came in.

"We have to take something they wouldn't recognize." She answered John's silent question. They followed her down an alley where she tore the cover off of another, smaller, car that would blend in more easily with the rest of the traffic. She got in the front seat. John and Sherlock got in the back. Percy didn't even have to glare at Sherlock for him to put on his seat belt this time. She pulled out into the streets and blended in.

"Where are we going?" John asked as they pulled onto a less busy road, but before Percy could answer the sound of gunshots came down the street behind them. Sherlock stole a glance back and saw the black car following them. There was a man leaning out one of the windows with a gun in his hand.

"Drive!" He yelled and Percy floored it. They sped down the road with the black car in hot pursuit.

"Tell me again why we're trusting you?" John wheezed as he was thrown against his seat belt when she turned a corner sharply.

"Because if it weren't for me and my associates you would both be dead by now." Percy stole a glance at them in the rearview mirror. "The people you were told were the Pawns are actually Mr. and Mrs. Rardold. We've been investigating them for some time."

"Who are you?" Sherlock asked in a calm voice even as they were being chased down the streets of London. "You aren't the secret service or the police if that is what you want us the believe." Percy looked surprised for a moment but then turned her attention back to the road as she swerved to avoid more gunfire.

"Are the people trying to kill us hired by the Rardolds?" John asked, ducking as glass shattered over his head.

"It appears to be that way." Percy answered simply.

"But then why did they hire us to find Clover Pawn?" It just didn't make sense.

"They underestimated you Mr. Holmes." She explained. "They didn't think you would find the lab. We didn't even know about that lab. They were going to use you to find her for a bit longer but you already know too much so they've had to take action sooner then they had hoped."

"Why are they looking for Clover?" Sherlock asked from the back seat. "I assume it has something to do with an experiment from what we saw of that lab."

"Yes, some kind of experiment. Unfortunately we haven't been able to figure out what it is." They were all thrown to the right as Percy swung around another corner.

"So Clover escaped and she has the information you need to put all the pieces together." Sherlock concluded.

"That is correct." Percy looked impressed. "But the story is a little more complicated then you realize. This isn't the first time she has escaped and her most resent escape happened a year ago."

Something didn't seem right about that. "Then why are they just calling us in on this now?" Sherlock lent forward, intrigued, until the rocking of the car threw him back.

"We were so close last year to finding her but then it all went cold. It seemed they found her first but she was determined not to go back with them so…" She hesitated.

"So?" Sherlock urged her on.

"So she put a gun in her mouth and pulled the trigger."

Sherlock's eyes widened and he seemed frozen. His calmness melted away and a glimpse of a more human side appeared. John too was in shock at this news. He looked over at his friend but his eyes were blank. John wanted to reach out and say something but he wasn't sure what he would say.

"We didn't get to her in time." Percy glanced in the rearview mirror. "I'm sorry."

Something clicked in John's mind. "If she's dead then why are we on this mad goose chase?" This made Sherlock look up.

"Well…" John could almost make out a smirk on her face. "She was believed to be dead until they found that her body was missing."

"So there is a chance that…" John didn't want to jinx it.

"It wouldn't be the first time that someone's faked a suicide." Percy looked back at Sherlock knowingly. "She's good. We aren't going to let the same thing happen again. We just have to get to her first this time."

"Do you have any clues to where she might be?" Sherlock finally spoke.

Percy was silent for a moment as they skidded across the asphalt. "Where did you learn to drive?" John yelled.

"You don't think my cover was a chauffeur for no reason do you? I am the best." She almost laughed, but her smile fell. "I'm afraid I've already told you too much about the situation. My orders are to escort you to a safe house and then go from there."

"You are not sticking us in some safe house. I will not just walk away from this investigation." Sherlock was not backing down.

"Usually I'd say that you're just a stubborn detective…"

"Consulting Detective." Sherlock corrected.

"But I think there is something more to this then I originally knew." She barely missed a second. "Who is she to you? Clover Pawn."

"An old friend. I haven't seen her for a very long time." He explained.

"This isn't the first time you've looked for her is it?"

"No."

"You won't stop looking will you?"

"No."

The conversation died after that as another black car came out of nowhere, ramming into them. John felt like he had gotten whiplash but Percy was still going. Her eyes looked more intense now as she swerved on coming cars, trying to figure out how to get them out of there. She was something else. John had never seen anyone drive like that, or at least not been in the car while they were racing down streets. Sherlock would agree. It was like being in the middle of one of James Bond's famous car chases, except this wasn't the movies. It was very real and very dangerous.

The two black cars managed to come up on either side of them. They both swerved in at the same time, sandwiching their car between them. Percy cursed as she tried to get the car free. John drew his gun as the passengers in the other car started firing at them. Sherlock grabbed him and made him duck the bullets. Percy still sat up right so she could see the road. The windows of the car smashed and glass flew everywhere. John felt one cut deeply into his cheek.

Percy put all of the weight of the car to try to turn right. Slowly the group of three cars started to drift to the right. The passengers in the car on their right noticed too late what she was planning as they ran head on into a fire hydrant. They were free. Percy took this chance to get them off the road.

"They are persistent." Sherlock remarked, seeing the car still following them.

"That's what I hate about these people." She almost laughed.

"Are you enjoying this?" John asked as he brushed glass off of his clothes.

"Maybe just a little." Percy smirked at him. "Haven't had enough good car chases lately."

"Percy you can't ask us to drop this case." Sherlock looked serious, killing the mood. "We are already too deeply involved. They aren't going to stop coming after us. We are a liability."

"I know." The smile was completely gone from her face and she seemed to be thinking. "But I have my orders. You can talk this through with my boss."

"You and your associates, are you government official?" John asked, suspicious.

"Not completely." Percy shrugged.

"You aren't a bunch of reporters in over your head are you?"

"No." She assured him. "We know what we're doing."

"Mycroft doesn't have anything to do with this does he?" Sherlock looked out the smashed window, trying to figure out where they were going.

"You are talking about Mycroft Holmes?" Percy turned a corner. "He doesn't even know we exist."

"I find that hard to believe." It wasn't meant as a compliment.

"We're better then you think, or have deduced." Percy glanced back.

Their conversation was cut short when another car came out of nowhere to their right, hitting the back of the car head on and sending them spinning. Percy struggled to regain control, but the violent spinning of the car made it difficult for her to keep her hands on the wheel. They only stopped when a pole got in their way, badly denting the car. Sherlock saw men get out of the other two cars that had stopped close to them. They had guns.

"John?" He turned to his friend and saw the wound on his head. "John!" He tried to shake him awake.

"Keep down and don't leave this car." Percy ordered, gun in hand. She came around the car with confidence in her step and began to fire at the men approaching them. Her pace didn't break as she crossed the road. The men fell like flies, most with wounds to either the shoulder or the leg. One tried to sneak around her to Sherlock and John. Without even looking, she swung her arm and fired. He cried out and clutched his shoulder, falling to his knees. Percy approached him.

"Was it the Rardolds who sent you?" She interrogated him, gun pointed at his head. "I will not hesitate to pull this trigger."

"Yes." His reply was almost inaudible.

"Speak up. Don't make me ask you again."

"Yes!" He answered loudly.

"Next question. Why do they want Clover Pawn back so badly? What did she do?"

"It wasn't something she did." He explained. "Its what she is, but I don't know anymore then that. They just hired us, we didn't ask questions."

"Don't lie to me. Did Clover Pawn ask questions?"

"Asking questions gets you killed." He grinned up at her. "You won't last long in this game missy. You were too late to save her last time and you will be too late again. You're all just a bunch of failures running around pretending they can make a difference. You'll all die just like her. Like cowards."

"Shut up!" Percy fired, hitting him in the leg. He cried out and fell onto his side. "The next one is going in your head if you're not careful. How many more of your friends are following us."

"Enough to catch you." He laughed. "We'll never stop hunting you or those men in the car."

"The Rardolds should have known that they would find that lab. Why did they hire them? There has to be another reason."

"You think they didn't do their homework. They knew there was a connection between Clover Pawn and the Holmes family. Sherlock was just the easiest to get to." The man sounded proud. "They didn't know exactly what their relationship was but it was enough. They wanted to draw her out."

"Well, as you can see, that didn't really work. Clover Pawn isn't here."

"She'll come. She isn't going to let him die. That just isn't who she is." He sounded so sure. "She would rather sacrifice herself then watch them fall and that's exactly what they want. She will pay for betraying them."

"People change." Percy started to lower her gun. "Give your employers a message from us. Back off!" Then she walked away, her boots clicking against the ground, and she didn't look back.

"Is he okay?" She asked when she got back to the car. John had come round but he still looked a little dazed.

"He should be fine." Sherlock placed his hand on his friend's shoulder.

"Good, because we need to change cars." She helped them out of the car. They got on either side of John to support him.

"I'm fine." He insisted, but he was still blinking spots out of his vision.

"Hurry, we don't have much time before they send more. We need to take this head start to our advantage." Percy let go of John and slipped over to a car parked by the road. Picking the lock was easy work. She opened the door for them.

"I'm not sure your skill with that lock reassures me about you and your intentions." Sherlock glanced over at her as he helped John into the backseat.

"Right now my only intention is to keep you two alive. I know you could hear what that man said. We need you alive if we want to find Clover Pawn." Percy got in the drivers side and they disappeared into traffic.

They didn't see any more cars following them. Percy took route to wherever she was going; trying to make it less obvious but Sherlock got the general area in which they were headed. She was taking them somewhere down by the Thames. They saw the water as they pulled over to the side of the road.

"We're here." Percy said, pointing to a building across the street that looked like all the others. Nothing about it stood out. "I know that I was supposed to take you to the safe house but the game has changed." She got out of the car and came around to open their door, still holding onto the habits of a chauffeur.

"Welcome to headquarters boys."

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW!**

**I don't know when the next chapter will be out. This story is going to go a little slowly for right now but I am hoping it will speed up soon. So please bear with me.**

**Do you like Percy?  
**

**Hope you keep following because the mystery hasn't been solved yet.**


	5. Faded Flower

**Well it has been a while hasn't it. I just got caught up in another of my stories that I have now finished. **

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

Faded Flower

Percy let them into the house. Inside was dark and looked all but abandoned. She did not comment on the appearance or state of disrepair of these so-called headquarters. But, as so many things are, it wasn't as it seemed. Sherlock looked around, taking everything in.

"Nice renovations." Sherlock commented. "Almost convincing."

"You have a good eye, Mr. Holmes." Percy smirked as she led them down the hallway to the side of the stairs.

"May I?" Sherlock asked before Percy could do anything.

"Be my guest." She stepped back for him. Sherlock approached the side of the stairs and ran his hand along the wall behind the stairs.

"The most faded flower in the wall paper." Sherlock stated before pressing the hidden button. John and Percy watched, always with a tinge of awe, as the hidden door in the side of the stairs opened.

"And they assured me that if you didn't already know where the button was you could never find it." Percy said sarcastically, waving her arm to gesture them into the opening.

"Thank you." John said for both Sherlock and himself, as usual. They followed the stairs behind the door down into the concealed basement level of the house. Percy slipped in front when they came to the door at the bottom. She raised her hand to the door and sighed before knocking in a peculiar fashion. They heard shuffling behind the door before it opened a crack and an eye peered out at them.

"Password." The voice that belonged to the eye said.

"Oh come on Stanley, its me, Percy." She groaned.

"I am not Stanley." His voice changed as he tried to sound older.

"Stanley!" Percy almost shouted. "Don't make me loose my patience with you…again."

"Fine." He creaked the door open, letting them in.

"Thank you." Percy bowed dramatically then entered. "Come on boys."

Sherlock and John followed her into a mostly empty room with a few tables pushed together and chairs. On the tables were strewn newspaper clippings and other notes, along with a few maps. Surrounding those tables was a small group of people, discussing in hushed voices. Stanley, a small, young looking man, hurried over to the man at the head of the table and whispered in his ear. The discussion stopped and all of their eyes fell on Sherlock, John, and Percy. The man Stanley had just spoken to, tall and obviously arrogant, as Sherlock noted, came walking up to them.

"Where have you been?" He looked to Percy, who crossed her arms, obviously holding little respect for the man. "You're late."

"I was doing my job." She huffed, stepping closer to him until she was only inches away. "Not everyone runs on such a tight schedule." Then she went to join the others, placing her gun on the table next to Stanley.

"So you must be Mr. Holmes and…" He looked to John and paused. "Who might you be?"

"John Watson." He extended his hand. The man did not take it.

"You may call me Russell." He stated.

"No last name?" Sherlock said as he inspected the room.

"No first names." Russell corrected, standing tall and smug. "Russell is my last name as Percy is her last name."

"Well you clearly aren't undercover or a part of any organization." Sherlock began. "I'd go as far as to say many of you aren't even employed."

"We are our own employers." Russell countered.

"You have come together with a common goal." Sherlock nodded.

"Yes, to take down the Rardolds." Russell said with pride.

"What have you sniffed out that makes you want to take them down?" Sherlock spun around to see all of the room. "Are they experimenting some kind of drug?"

"A drug that directly affects the brain, putting whoever is injected with it under a certain person's control." Russell explained. "It is activated by that certain person's voice. The one injected might not even know they have been injected with the drug."

"They were testing on people down in that lab." Sherlock concluded. "Clover Pawn was one of the test subjects, and I'm guessing the drug worked with her, but it would always wear off after a while, giving her time to escape. She was clever and managed it a few times."

"For some reason the drug only worked on her, and not on the others." Russell nodded, eyeing Sherlock. "They wanted to know why, but she couldn't let them have the answer. She also asked too many questions. She knows too much for them to let her go."

"Without her all of their research will be for nothing and the testing for this drug will most likely stop, concluded as a failure." Sherlock finished.

"Exactly." Stanley said from his perch on one of the tables, munching on a bag of crisps. "So we have to find her first." Percy elbowed him to shush him and snatched the bag from his hands, whisking it away with a sly grin.

"You aren't experienced or organized enough for this." Sherlock finished his look around of the room and analysis of the amateurs around the table. Stanley and Percy's interactions could almost be described as childish. "You're in over your heads."

"You underestimate us." Russell tried to command the room, but he fidgeted and blinked too much. Unnerved by Sherlock's comment.

"Do I?" Sherlock's eyes connected with Russell. John could sense the tension. "You already failed last time." John could see that Sherlock was holding a grudge because of Clover's fake suicide.

"Timing is everything." Russell regained some confidence. "Isn't it?"

"I was always a fan of spontaneity." Percy commented as she slipped a crisp into her mouth.

"When I want your input, Percy, I'll ask for it." He waved her away as she gave him a look that could have killed if he had seen it. John gulped at the sight. If provoked, Percy would not be one to mess with. John had seen it when they'd crashed the car. She had no hesitation with that gun. John made note to stay on her good side.

"I'll take it you have a plan." Sherlock deduced.

"Can we trust you?" Russell eyed him with the suspicion he showed almost everyone.

"Yes." Percy said before Sherlock could even open his mouth. She stood up from where she was leaning against the table and put down the bag of crisps. "We can trust him."

"How can you be sure?" He looked to her, questioningly.

"If you're so obsessed with time then why are you taking up what valuable time we have asking stupid questions?" She spat as she came to stand closer. "If we don't move now we'll lose her…again."

Russell's jaw tightened, as he turned back to Sherlock and John. "We've gained information from a reliable source of Clover Pawn's whereabouts. Percy, you will be going and you will escort her back here when you find her."

"She can't go alone." Stanley interjected. "What if the Rardolds have got the information as well and send their own people. Percy can't stand against them on her own."

"I'll be taking Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson." Percy announced. Russell opened his mouth to object but she cut him off. "Mr. Watson has had experience in the army and Mr. Holmes' deduction skills are unmatched. I will need them on this one."

"Fine." Russell relented. "Here is the address." He handed her a slip of paper. "Be back as soon as possible. I want you back alive so no sidetracking and don't do anything risky. I know you Percy." He warned.

"Do you now?" Percy shot him a glare and went to take her gun from the table next to Stanley, slipping it under her long green chauffeur's coat that she hadn't changed out of. She had kept the hat on as well. Odd.

"Come on boys." She waved to Sherlock and John to follow her towards the door.

"Don't take long." Russell called after them.

"I'll be seeing you Russell." She waved to him without turning around.

The three of them made their way out to another car, different then the one they had come in. Percy unlocked the door for them and they all got in, putting on their seatbelts before Percy asked them. The meeting with the strange band of amateurs had been brief but very informative for Sherlock.

"So where exactly are we going?" John asked after they had been driving for fifteen minutes, just pulling off of a busier road and heading for a bridge across the water.

"Can you hold that thought for a second Mr. Watson?" Percy asked, looking in the car side mirrors. "How did they find us?"

Sherlock and John looked behind them and noticed the same black cars from before. "It seems we're in for another one of your thrilling car chases." Sherlock announced.

"It does seem that way doesn't it." Percy smirked, pulling off onto another road. "We have to loose them. We can't let them near Clover."

Percy used her driving skills to weave around that area of London. Suddenly she whipped towards the bridge and swerved into an alley on the other side.

"Here's the address." She handed Sherlock the folded piece of paper. "It should be close to the water somewhere."

"What about you?" John asked, looking between the paper with the address on it and Percy.

"I'm going to lead them away." She said as they got out of the car. "Stay out of sight for five minutes. I'll give you as much time as I can get, but you have to get to that address and keep her safe. You got that?"

"Yeah, okay." John nodded, closing the car door.

"Good luck!" She shouted as she pulled away and out of the alley. No sooner had she left the alley that they saw the black cars whip after her.

"You think she'll be alright?" John looked to Sherlock who seemed to be thinking. Suddenly his head snapped towards John, his eyes wide in realization.

"She's going to take them back across the bridge." He told John. "They're too close to her and her car isn't fast enough."

"What are you saying?" John was starting to panic. He didn't like the look on Sherlock's face.

"They're going to run her off the bridge." Sherlock set off at a run.

"Where are you going?" John ran after him.

"To the bridge!" He shouted back. The two of them ran out onto the road leading back to the bridge. Percy wouldn't have taken the direct route back to the bridge. She would have gone zigzag.

John and Sherlock reached the bridge just in time to see Percy's car go on with the black cars close behind. They were going so fast that they didn't see John or Sherlock. Then everything seemed to slow down. One of the black cars came up beside Percy and rammed into the side of her car. Her car lost control as it hit the side of the bridge, denting the rail. The black car pulled away slighting then rammed her car again, hard enough to break the rail. It pulled back again for one last swing. Percy didn't have enough space to get out, and from the last two hits she might already be unconscious from being rocked around inside the car.

"No!" Sherlock yelled as the black car hit hers one last time, just enough to send the car tumbling over the edge, hitting the water.

"Percy."

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW! It will help me update faster.**

**Thanks for all the reviews so far. Hopefully I'll update sooner. It definitely won't be as long as this.**

**Hope you keep following because this story is about to take an unexpected turn.**

**See you next time.**


	6. One Puzzle Piece Out of Place

**I'm just not good at updating this story am I. Had some free time so here's the next chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

One Puzzle Piece Out of Place

Sherlock and John watched as Percy's car disappeared below the water. Without hesitation they ran to the stairs that lead down to the water. John went down first, taking off his coat and removing his gun, diving into the water. Sherlock watched from the stairs, holding John's coat and gun. They both hoped that the car was still close enough to the surface for John to reach.

The water was cold and murky, but John could still see the lights of Percy's car as it sunk. Then the lights flickered and died, but John was close enough to see the car now. The driver's window was open. He looked inside but Percy wasn't there. He whipped around in the water, looking for her. Maybe she had gotten out and had already swum to the surface.

He was about to give up and swim back to the surface for more air when he spotted a dark shape floating in the water close by. He pushed himself through the water towards it, reaching out and grasping onto an arm. The murkiness of the water made it impossible to see who it was he had found. All he could do was hope that it was Percy. He was almost out of air, kicking his feet to get to the surface.

John gasped in the air, filling his burning lungs. He looked over at the person in his arms and let out a sigh of relief. It was Percy, still wearing her chauffeur's hat, but she wasn't moving. She must have been able to free herself from the car before loosing consciousness. John needed to get her back to the stairs where Sherlock was waiting for them. He tried his best to keep her head above the water.

When they were close enough, Sherlock reached out to pull them in. John lifted Percy up for him to take. Sherlock pulled her out of the water and onto the stone stairs. She was lighter then Sherlock had anticipated and she was very pale. John lifted himself out of the water and stumbled towards them.

"We need to get her up to a flat surface so I can resuscitate her. Can you carry her?" John panted, exhausted from the swim and pulling the additional weight of Percy through the water that seemed to fight him.

Without a word, Sherlock scooped Percy into his arms and climbed the stairs two at a time, John close behind. Why did she seem so small in his arms? Sherlock had seen her face down a large number of men by herself with only one small gun. She was strong and courageous, a fighter. Now she looked vulnerable and weak, so small, nothing like the fiery eyed Percy from before. She was too light.

When they reached the top of the stairs, Sherlock gently placed her down on the pavement. John knelt down beside her and tried to resuscitate her. Her chauffeur hat fell from her head, revealing her very short brown hair. Then she gasped, rolled over and spat up water, coughing. John and Sherlock visibly relaxed.

Percy blinked, her eyes coming back into focus. She looked at both of them bewildered. "What are you doing here?"

"Saving your life it seems." John got to his feet.

"I was trying to buy you time to get to Clover." Percy seemed angry.

"By plunging your car into the Thames?" Sherlock found the plan illogical.

"Well…no." She shakily got to her feet, still dripping wet, grabbing her hat and shoving it back onto her head.

"Your distraction will have bought us some time." Sherlock assured her. "That is if they believed we were all in that car and are still sinking to the bottom of the Thames."

"We shouldn't linger here incase they come back." John pointed in a direction away from the river. "We can still get to Clover on foot." He took his jacket from Sherlock, wrapping it around him. Then he took his gun back as well. There wouldn't be any time to get dry clothes. They needed to get to the location written on the piece of paper Sherlock had hidden safely in his pocket.

"No more time to waste then." Sherlock took off at a run with the others squelching behind him.

The three of them weaved through the streets of London, taking less used roads in order not to draw any unwanted attention. Before long they had reached the address. It was a tall red bricked abandoned looking building. Sort of like the headquarters Percy had taken them to. Sherlock examined the exterior. It looked real enough.

John tried to door. It wasn't locked. He looked back at Sherlock who nodded. As quietly as he could, John pushed the door open. The room on the other side was dark and cold. He went through first, taking out his gun. Sherlock was second. He looked back to make sure Percy was following. She must have lost her gun in the water, but her eyes were still darting around, taking everything in.

Sherlock's mind worked faster, trying to take as much information as he could from the abandoned looking building, but there was little there. It looked like it used to be a storage building where some company took all of their products to check them to make sure they were safe to start selling to the public. Now it was empty and whoever had been here before had left little behind.

Why would Clover have come here? Sherlock looked back at every memory he had of the girl before she went missing. He remembered her to be smart, smart enough to toy with the Holmes brothers. She had always worn a smile, if sometimes you could only hear it in her voice, trying to lift everyone's spirits.

Sherlock found something Molly had once said to him come floating back into his mind. It was from that time in the lab when she told him about her father and how he always looked sad when he thought no one could see. Sherlock thought about the last day of school when that photo was taken. Just before the teacher took the picture, just for a second, Clover's eyes fell. She must have thought that both he and Mycroft were looking at the camera, but Sherlock glanced at her right before it flashed. Back then he had thought nothing of it, but now. It was the look in her eyes, like she was saying goodbye, but she didn't want to.

Clover had known for months what was going to happen. She knew that eventually she was going to disappear, that her parent's work was going to turn her world upside down. She was smart enough to know that nothing could be done and she didn't want anyone to worry. So she kept quiet and didn't say a word to anyone, not even the Holmes boys. Clover knew how clever they were but she couldn't bear to see them get involved, and even possibly hurt. Sherlock had always thought her heart was too kind.

Clover had been a mystery right from the start. She barely spoke about her life at home or herself at all. That's why Sherlock didn't push her away. She didn't seem to be put off by his deducing, just like John. The more he spent time with her the more he felt like he knew her, but now he feels like it was all a ruse. He never really knew Clover Pawn at all. It was like she was a ghost or maybe she had never really existed at all. She was just another out of place puzzle piece in Sherlock's mind.

Even her smile could have been a mask, hiding her dark secret. Sherlock could never quite forget the cases he couldn't solve. He never forgot Clover. She always liked to do what was least obvious. So was hiding in an abandoned building too obvious?

Then again, Clover did always like games. She always had a plan, a strategy. Whether her strategies worked or not always depended on the game and what rules had to be followed. Clover once told him that rules were made to be broken and sometimes lies needed to be told. She lived a lie so she would know.

Sherlock, John, and Percy made their way through the abandoned building as quietly as possible. Each one of them covered a different direction, trying to avoid any surprises. But the building was dark and they hadn't found a light switch yet. The further they ventured in the more John felt like they were being watched. Something wasn't right?

"Are you sure this is the place?" John asked Sherlock.

"This is the address they gave us." Sherlock was certain. "Unless Russell's source isn't as reliable as he believes."

"Maybe she heard us coming." Percy suggested.

"If she'd seen us she would have recognized me." Sherlock pressed on.

"She could be anywhere in here." John looked around, not seeing any signs of movement.

"She'd have a way of knowing if anyone came here to find her." Sherlock stopped. "She'd be listening."

"It has been fifteen years since you've seen her, maybe she doesn't trust you." Percy wondered.

"Clover always knew who to trust." Sherlock remembered. "She was manipulative like that."

"She isn't here." John caught on.

"I don't think she ever was." Sherlock had seen no sign of her.

"It's a trap!" Percy gasped and suddenly the lights came on, blinding them. Everything was blurry. The three of them stumbled around off balance because of the sudden brightness.

The last thing they heard was someone laughing. Sherlock felt a sudden pain at the back of his head and then everything went dark.

**Thanks for reading and please keep up the fantastic REVIEWS! I really appreciate them. **

**Tell me what you think. How will this mystery end? So many questions still to be answered.**

**Hope you keep following because the real villain is about to be revealed.**

**See you next time. (Which will hopefully be sooner then before)**


	7. The Imitation

**I managed to get this one up pretty quick. **

**I guess I should mention, if no ones figured it out yet, that this story sort of takes place after the Reichenbach Fall. I didn't write it for that originally but it just seemed to sort of spiral in that direction.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy.**

The Imitation

The room was dark with one single light swinging from the center of the ceiling. The dark room was fuzzy as Sherlock started to regain consciousness. It was small but there was still plenty of room between the two chairs that leaned up against opposite walls facing each other. Sherlock was coming to in his chair. He lurched forward but his hands caught on the back. He struggled but they were bound tight together with rough rope.

Then he stopped struggling. As Sherlock's eyes became accustomed to the darkness with only a small light source he noticed the chair across from him, separated by a few long feet. The person in the other chair had their chin resting against their chest, still out cold.

"John?" Sherlock squinted. "John!"

"Sher…" John started to stir, blinking and shaking his head, still very much out of it.

There was still a pounding pain at the back of Sherlock's head, and he guessed John had the same, from whatever blunt instrument had gone crashing into it without mercy. He wouldn't be surprised if at least one of them had a concussion.

"Where are we?" Sherlock heard John mumble.

"Some sort of makeshift cell." Sherlock looked around, taking everything in. "Well at least its made to look like a cell, and a very old one at that."

"So are we in some amusement park or history museum?" John groaned, feeling the pain at the back of his head.

"None that I know of." There wasn't much in the cell to give away anything else. The door was placed in the middle of the wall to his left. It had a small window in it with bars running vertically across it.

"The next question is who trapped us here." Sherlock ran through all the information in his head, trying to figure it out.

"I think I can answer that question." The two of them froze at the sound of this new voice. Someone unlocked the metal door, heaving it open. Sherlock never thought he would see that smug smile again, but there he was, striding through the door like it was any other day. He wore his usual suit and had that same psychotic gleam in his eyes as the last time Sherlock had seen him on that rooftop.

"Moriarty." He spat.

"No need to be rude." The man grinned. "After all it's been so long since we've had a proper chat."

"You're supposed to be dead." Sherlock pointed out.

"So are you." Moriarty retorted. "Then again it was so clever the way you pulled it off."

"How did you pull it off?" Sherlock remembered his last confrontation with this villain like it was yesterday. He remembered him pulling the trigger. He remembered the blood.

"You never did check for a pulse." Moriarty swayed on his feet. "It's a wonder what blood pouches can do if you set them off at the right time. It was my blood; it just didn't come from a bullet through the top of my mouth. As I've heard I'm not the only one who stuck a gun in their mouth and pulled the trigger."

"How do you know about Clover?" John cut in.

"Think about who you're talking to." Moriarty straightened his suit jacket. "You forget how much Sherlock's darling brother told me to get me to talk. I heard a lot about her."

"Where is she now?" Sherlock tried to stay calm. He wasn't going to loose control in front of this psychopath.

"What, Clover Pawn?" Moriarty turned on his heels to face Sherlock. "Dead, and has been for about a year now."

"Didn't she fake her death?" John didn't understand.

"That was a clever idea wasn't it?" Moriarty grinned. "How could you pass up the idea that your best friend that has been missing for fifteen years is actually still alive? You just could resist, could you Sherlock. The case you never solved finally coming back and you get another chance to try and save Clover. Well you already failed that now didn't you? You always seem to be too late."

"Why dig it up and give false evidence?" John asked since Sherlock seemed to be keeping his mouth shut for once.

"I needed your fantastic distraction to get something." Moriarty explained. "And it was fun to watch you running around after clues."

"What were you trying to get?" John pushed for more information, hoping that Moriarty's boasting would give them some valuable insight.

"You're not asking the right questions." Moriarty shook his finger at the doctor. "The real question is what's missing from this picture."

Sherlock and John looked around. It suddenly dawned on them. How could they have been so blind not to notice?

"Your little chauffeur friend doesn't seem to be here." Moriarty fake gasped. "And you didn't even notice. Shame on you."

"Where's Percy?" Sherlock finally spoke up.

"Looking for me?" Percy appeared in the doorway, still wearing her chauffeur coat and hat. She leaned against the doorframe, a smirk on her face and a devilish gleam in her eyes.

"You're working with him?" John was astonished.

"I'm surprised neither of you caught on." She sighed. "I'm disappointed really. After all I heard about the great consulting detective and he can't even figure out that I'm messing with him."

"You've been betraying us since the start." Sherlock spat. How could he not have seen? The clues were all there. That's how the men in the black cars were always able to find them so easily.

"But you attacked those men who followed us." John insisted, still not believing what he was hearing.

"Those men belonged to the Rardolds. I am not loyal to them." There had been no casualties either. "I was undercover in a couple places. How do you think the Rardolds knew to contact you? Because I told them. Who do you think sent them the false piece of evidence, the pawn? Me."

"She followed the plan to the letter." Moriarty grinned at his associate. "Even managed to infiltrate that stupid little group of amateurs. Though they did fit into the plan quite perfectly. Excellent cover. You did retrieve it I assume."

"Of course." Percy pulled a small usb stick out of her coat pocket, handing it over to Moriarty. "Everything is there. We destroyed all other copies. Stanley managed to pass it to me when we were meeting the amateurs. He had gotten it while the Rardolds were distracted with these two."

"Excellent." He took the usb from her. "They wouldn't know what to do with this drug anyway. I can find a far better use for it."

"You can't crack it without Clover, and she's gone." Sherlock pointed out, refusing to say the word 'dead'.

"Just because the Rardolds couldn't doesn't mean I can't." Moriarty countered him. "I must thank you for the distraction. It was very helpful. I do so love playing this little game of ours."

"What will you do with us now?" John asked, struggling against the rope tying his hands together.

Moriarty didn't answer him. He merely smiled, twirling the little information stick in his hands. He just smirked and walked out the door, humming a simple tune. Moriarty left them in defeat. He had won…again. They had learnt so much in the last few minutes, learning that the whole case was for nothing. It had been a wild goose chase. Clover had never faked her death at all. It had been a trick to lure them into this ghastly game.

They had been nothing but fools. Hope driving them into a wall. It was the deadest of ends. They might not be getting out this time. The two of them were so caught up in their own thoughts that they didn't notice that the cell door was still open and someone was still leaning against the doorframe.

"You should have let me drown." Her expression had darkened. "Though it wouldn't have made much of a difference."

"We aren't that heartless." John looked up at her.

"You were Russell's reliable source." All the pieces were coming together in Sherlock's mind.

"And he didn't even know it." They heard the smirk in her voice. "The 'source' always passed messages through me. Russell thought he was the one in control. The arrogant fool."

"You did the work on the house and the place where we were ambushed. Even this cell." Sherlock looked up. "You have quite a hand for the arts."

"That's what got me into this circle of criminals." Percy drew a circle in the air with her finger. "I'm good at counterfeits and forgeries. Imitations if you will, having that illusion of being authentic. I myself was an imitation of a person you could trust. You have an eye for spotting the fakes, Mr. Holmes. I will admit that. I wouldn't be surprised if you haven't seen my work before. I remember a painting Moriarty asked me to make once. I could have made it flawless but he asked me to put one little clue in. Do you remember what it was?"

"The supernova." Sherlock remembered that case well. It was the first time he had come face to face with the infamous Moriarty himself, the Consulting Criminal.

"Bingo." Percy winked.

"Why are you doing this?" Sherlock still had a few pieces missing from his puzzle.

"Because it's fun." Percy smiled as if it were obvious. "I'm like you, Mr. Holmes. I get bored."

"Isn't it irritating?" Sherlock agreed.

"Sometimes I think I'm going to loose my mind." She nodded.

"Always such a pity when the fun is over." Sherlock added.

"Over?" Percy looked at him, her eyes sparkling. "Who ever said this was over? Yes, Moriarty's plan to use the both of you as a distraction is done, but it doesn't end there."

"What is there left to do?" Sherlock tried to keep her talking.

"So much." Percy took a step into the room, pushing herself off the doorframe. "Yes it is all nearing the finale, but lets have a little bit more fun." She walked over to Sherlock, her hands behind her back. "There's one more game to play." She leaned forward and whispered in Sherlock's ear. "One more move on the chessboard, and then its checkmate."

Percy backed away towards the door, a small grin on her face. She tapped her collarbone as if there should have been something there. Then she slipped out the door, not breaking eye contact for a second. "See you at the finale."

Thanks for reading.

**REVIEWS are like a writer's life blood. Keep me going with your awesome REVIEWS!**

**If there's anything I missed or that doesn't make sense then please don't hesitate to say so and I will fix it.**

**Send me any theories you have of where this is going.**

**I hope you keep following because we're about to find out who the real pawn of this story is.**

**See you next time.**


	8. The Pawn

**Don't worry. You won't have to put up with my insanely long time gaps between chapters for much longer. This is the second last chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, only my OCs and this storyline.**

**Hope you enjoy and sorry that it's really short.**

The Pawn

"Witch!" It was the first insult that came to John's mind, but it was only met by Percy's maniacal laughter as if it were a compliment as she disappeared out the door and down the hallway. His shoulders fell when the sound of her footsteps went silent.

"Come on, John." Sherlock suddenly said. "We're getting out of here."

"Am I the only one who's noticed the fact that we're tied to chairs with a rather good knot?" John glared at his friend. "There is no getting out, not this time."

"Funny." Sherlock glanced towards the door. "She didn't close the door on the way out."

John followed his gaze to the door. It was true. The cell door hung open and no one on the outside had moved to close it. Had they been left completely unguarded? That couldn't be a coincidence, or was it an accident? The two sometimes seemed to blur together.

"What about the ropes?" John looked back to Sherlock who seemed to be fiddling with something behind his back. "What are you doing?"

"Cutting the rope." Sherlock stated as if it were obvious.

"With what?" John stared at his friend.

"A knife." The consulting detective went on sawing with the small knife behind his back, slowly making progress through the rope.

"Where did you get a knife?" John felt like he was missing something.

"Percy slipped it to me just now when she leaned in to whisper in my ear." Sherlock didn't look surprised.

"What, is she a quadruple agent now?" John leaned back in his chair, exasperated. This case just kept getting better and better.

"She did say the game wasn't over." Sherlock pointed out. "Moriarty's game is done, but hers has one more piece to it, and that starts with you and me getting out of here in one piece." The ropes snapped behind him as the knife went through. The force knocked him off his chair. He got to his feet as if nothing had happened, and went to cut the ropes still holding John's hands together.

"How do we know this isn't another trap?" John retorted. "How do we know we can trust her this time?"

"We don't." Those two words brought back the memory of the first time Percy had saved them in the secret lab under Clover's old room. Percy had never given them a reason to trust her, and yet they followed her without question. She really had been the perfect imitation of a person they would be so willing to trust. Her skills went beyond works of art.

John felt himself wondering how long Percy had been working for Moriarty. Had they come across any of her other work on their cases and not even noticed that they were forgeries? If it weren't for the supernova they would never have been able to prove the painting was a fake, just another game.

Now she was going against Moriarty by helping them escape. What kind of dangerous game was she playing, and who was really holding all the cards?

The knife finally got through John's bonds. Sherlock helped him to his feet. He rubbed his wrists where the rough rope had rubbed against them. "What's the plan now?"

"We run." Sherlock bolted for the door.

"That's your plan?" John had been expecting something a little more thought out, but when they reached the hallway and looked to the end John's blood ran cold. Percy was standing at the end, tapping her foot as if she had been waiting for them. She grinned upon seeing them. Then she tipped her hat and sped around a corner away from them.

"Follow her!" Sherlock ran off after her with John following close behind, tired of trying to find out exactly what was happening.

As they turned the corner after Percy they managed to spot her long green chauffeur coat disappearing around another corner. There was no time to lose as they followed her down the winding hallways of whatever facility Moriarty had set up in. It looked like Percy knew this place like the back of her hand as she turned corners without hesitation.

Sherlock, however, saw something else as he watched her run ahead of them. He had seen her run before, but this time was different. Something about the way she was running was off. She was slower. It wasn't so that they could keep up with her. She knew they were capable of that. It was something else.

And then, Percy slipped. Her right foot slid across the floor beside her. She managed to catch herself with her hands, glancing back at the two men following her. For a moment their eyes met and Sherlock saw something very different in her previously bright eyes. Percy looked tired.

But there was no time for rest as Percy kicked off the ground and resumed her mad dash down the next corridor, never loosing her footing again.

They turned one last corner, but they didn't see Percy ahead of them this time. Instead all they spotted was a door swinging open. Sherlock and John slipped through the door into an empty parking lot. They looked around, but there was no sign of Percy. She was gone.

"What now?" John asked.

"I…" Sherlock hesitated, his mind whirling with all the information he had received that night. The pieces of the puzzle were slowly fitting together, but not quite.

"Percy wasn't the pawn." He rubbed his temple in thought. "She was using the others, everyone, but why? Everything goes back to her. She was the one who suggested to the Rardold's that they contact me. She was the one who put the pawn in our mailbox. She was always the one on the inside, the double agent. Why would Moriarty pick a counterfeit artist to do all the work?"

"Sherlock."

"She is clever, so there must be a bigger picture, some kind of motive that puts it all together. Then what is her connection to Clover?"

"Sherlock."

"She had them all wrapped around her finger."

"Sherlock!"

"What?" Sherlock turned to the man who was pointing at something sitting on the pavement. The consulting detective squinted at the small object in the dark. He took a step towards it and lifted it off the ground.

"The pawn." John sucked in a breath. "Did Percy leave it?"

"It all comes back to this." Sherlock closed his hand around the red pawn.

"How?"

"It seems we've hit a dead end." Sherlock didn't take his eyes off the pawn. "I'm afraid there is no where to go from here."

"You're giving up?" John was shocked. He thought this case was important to Sherlock. That Clover had been important enough to him that he wouldn't stop until it was solved, but Clover was dead so maybe it had already been solved. "Are you sure?"

"Very." Sherlock glanced back towards the door they had come through. "We'd better finish our escape before our dear friend Moriarty notices our absence."

John almost believed him. For weeks he believed him. There was no mention of the case and no sign of Percy or Moriarty. Even the Rardolds were quiet.

John thought the case was over, with no more leads to follow, but Sherlock knew that it wasn't done with him just yet. There was still one more piece on the board to play, one last chess piece. The pawn.

**Thanks for reading and please REVIEW!**

**A great big thanks to everyone who has liked/followed/reviewed so far. You all are amazing.**

**I hope you stick around for the final chapter. It all comes together at the finale.**

**See you next time.**


End file.
